


Treaty

by never_shuts_up



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Aftercare, Anxiety, Anxious!Seth, Awkward Conversations, D/s undertones, Discussion of kink without actually discussing kink, Hurt/Comfort, Original Female Character doesn't physically appear in this work but she's still present, Other, Rolleigns could be implied if you really want it to be, Seth wants things he can't ask for, Spinoff of sleeplessandcynical, Submissive!Roman canon, Wrestling, Wrestling with feelings, Writer reads too much into in-ring storytelling, exploration of submissive tendencies, wrestling with mental health
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 22:10:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11277786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_shuts_up/pseuds/never_shuts_up
Summary: A match between former friends opens old wounds, and the hardest to heal are the ones that don't show.Based in the story line of "Sublimation" by sleeplessandcynical.





	Treaty

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sublimation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10469295) by [sleeplessandcynical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleeplessandcynical/pseuds/sleeplessandcynical). 



> First fic I’ve written in this fandom, first fic I’ve posted to tumblr, whole lot of firsts.
> 
> This is based in the story line of the awesome sleeplessandcynical‘s “Sublimation” series and is kind of a spin-off/companion piece. I didn’t originally intend it that way, but a lot of things just started to fit into place. It will make more sense if you’ve read all of “Sublimation," and are familiar with her version of Roman and the woman who makes him who he is. Many, many thanks are due to her for creating this story line and being so willing to let me play around in it.
> 
> Takes place after the events of RAW on 5/29/2017. My original plan was to have this finished and posted before Extreme Rules, but deadlines and life just weren’t cooperating.
> 
>  **Content Notes: Includes description of panic attack & background anxiety.** Vague references to kink without *really* talking about kink. Not really intended as Rolleigns, but could be open to that interpretation.
> 
>  
> 
> [Soundtrack: ]()  
>  [“Treaty” by Leonard Cohen](https://youtu.be/NU5FPAR7ass)
> 
>  
> 
> Additional required listening: [“Heel Turn #2″ by The Mountain Goats](https://youtu.be/6MtnwN32ioo)

****_I heard the snake was baffled by his sin_  
_He shed his scales to find the snake within_  
_But born again is born without a skin_  
_The poison enters into everything_

 _And I wish there was a treaty we could sign_  
_I do not care who takes this bloody hill_  
_I’m angry and I’m tired all the time_  
_I wish there was a treaty_  
_I wish there was a treaty_  
 _Between your love and mine_

  * _“Treaty,”_ Leonard Cohen



 The sound of the bell hit as hard as the impact that had taken him to the mat seconds before. It was so hard to breathe, so hard that the air felt thick, and everything was foggy.

Everything except, of course, the massive figure of Roman Reigns, back turned to him, exalting victoriously in the roar of the crowd.

The familiarity of the sight shot a bolt of lightning into the pit of Seth’s stomach. How many times had they done this exact thing together? How many others had he seen this way, and how many times had that figure been his own? But this wasn't over. It couldn't be over. If it was, he would be getting off easy. Seth realized he was still braced for impact - another boot, or fist, or chair - who knew what was going to happen now? Roman had him right where he probably wanted him, and any number of others probably wanted to get a shot in while he lay here, pathetically trying to pull himself back together. And he was prepared to let them come. It seemed the right time to stay down and wait for the inevitable.

But no impact came. The ache in Seth’s chest gripped him tighter. Emanating not from his bruised ribs, but from somewhere deeper, it squeezed like a vise, like Roman’s hand had gripped his neck only minutes before. Not choking, but teasing with the notion of it, of cutting off his air completely, and he reflected that it might not be the worst way to die. To just give up the fight and stop breathing. Stop resisting. Just stop, and let the blackness come, just like the Coquina clutch that had pulled him down into the dark the week before.

But as before, as always, a tiny, frantic voice inside him screamed at him to fight, to claw back to the surface.

Getting up seemed to require more strength than he had, and yes, defeat did hurt, but this was so much more. If all was right in the world, he wouldn't have been able to get up - Roman would have broken his body as irreparably as he himself had broken his closest friends’ hearts. But this wasn't a just world. This wasn't a fair world. And he was no more fair, or just, or right than anything else in it.

When Roman’s music and the crowd faded to a dull roar, he felt hands easing him up from the mat. Heard all the usual questions, but didn't listen to them. Gathering the shreds of what pride he had left, Seth dragged himself to his feet. It wouldn't look right if he couldn't leave the ring under his own power, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to be carried. But it was still so hard, so hard to get enough air. He tried to resist the desperate, rapid short breaths that the ache in his chest seemed to force, and still the frantic pounding of his heart, but even trying to count through it did nothing.

Step by dazed step, somehow he made it back up the ramp and through the curtain, and a few steps more before leaning heavily against the wall, forehead resting on the cool painted surface of the  cinder blocks, numb fingers gripping the gaps between them as he tried, vainly, to take slower, deeper breaths. The tight ache in his chest seemed to have spread to his throat, and squeezed a few tears from his stinging eyes. The rough surface of the wall was an anchor, and clinging to it felt like the only thing stopping him from being dragged out to sea. Still gripping the wall, he eased himself down to the floor, because everything else seemed to wobble and waver. Minutes seemed to go on for hours, and time lost all meaning. 

“Wasn't sure I would find you here.”

The voice jolted Seth back into himself. There was no point in trying to compose himself, no way to hide. Slowly, his heart thudding painfully and far-too-fast, he turned away from the wall, and found himself once again staring up at Roman Reigns.

 A cold shock of pure fear shot through Seth’s entire body anew, jolting him back up to his feet, and almost involuntarily, he felt his jaw clench and his hands close into fists. “What do you want?” he snapped, the words sounding as if they came from someone else, somewhere far away. “Let me guess - you're not done yet? What the hell else do you want with me?”

 The words hung in the air like icicles, for a very long moment. Through the adrenaline haze, Seth could see Roman start to speak, and braced himself for impact, but then he noticed Roman’s face. Something in his eyes had shifted, and he blinked, as if he was somehow seeing Seth for the very first time.

 “To be honest, Uce, I wasn't gonna hurt you. Just talk some shit, scare you a little or whatever - but no. You're not in a good way. You're shaking.”

 “What's it to you?” The words had taken Seth completely by surprise, but his guard was still up. His heart was still racing and he tried, hoping beyond hope, to keep his accelerating breath under control, but it was a losing battle.

 “I don't really know, I just see something's fucking with you, and it's not all from me.” Roman reached an open hand out, and Seth pushed it away. The larger man was drawing closer, and Seth glanced frantically about for some way to escape, because the heartbeat pounding through his head still whispered “run.” As quickly as a snake striking, Roman gripped his wrists with both hands, but what kept Seth from fighting his way out and pushing him away was the absolute gentleness of that grip. _This was different._ He wasn't squeezing, crushing, or pushing - his touch was firm, but almost unbearably gentle.

 “Are you hurt?”

“No. I mean, maybe. I mean, I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“A lot of things hurt.”

“Take a deep breath, and tell me.”

 Tears burned at the corners of Seth’s eyes as he forced himself to take a deep, ragged inhale, counted in, then out, as he stared at Roman’s huge hands wrapped around his own. He forced his face into a mask of some kind of normal, and pushed the words out through a clenched jaw. “I’m bruised up, but that's all.” Roman’s hands gripped his wrists tighter, but still gently. “Uce, you're a great talker but a fucking terrible liar. And you look like you're about to pass out if you keep this up.”

Seth kept staring down at his hands, still not sure what to make of what he was seeing. He couldn't look up, couldn't bear to look Roman directly in the eye. Something within him was still screaming _run, fight, get away while you still can_ , but the warmth of that touch tweaked at something else entirely, and he felt the iron grip on his insides begin to dissolve a little.

 Roman slackened his grip and let go, reaching one hand into the back pocket of his pants. “I probably should have asked before I did that.” Shifting his  feet guiltily, he pulled out a bottle of water, unopened. “Here. You look like you need this.”

Seth tried to push the bottle away, but Roman’s hand didn't move. “I don't need your help. Really, I don't. I just need a minute, is all. I should go to the medics, but I can't walk in there like this.”

Roman gestured down the hallway. “Locker room. Most everyone's cleared out by now. But you're still getting checked out, even if i have to go with you.”

The fear and rage fighting for control in the front of Seth’s mind had been replaced by a tangle of confusion. _Why? Why was this happening, and why would Roman ever do something like this after everything that they'd just done? What was he trying to prove?_ Numbly, blindly, he followed Roman down the hall to the locker room, which as predicted, was empty. The door swung shut behind them, and as Roman turned to face him, Seth noticed that look again. That peculiar softness around the eyes, the concern etched in small lines on his forehead. This wasn't the face of an enemy, a predator - and with nobody else watching, there was no doubt that it was completely real.

“Look, I just don't understand why you're doing this,” Seth protested, hoping his own words didn't sound as weak and tired to Roman as they did inside his own head. “Why you're standing here - hell, why I'm standing here. After everything I've done to you, I should never have been able to get off that floor but here I am, and here you are, trying to help me, and you’re looking at me like that - why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Because what we just did, out there, was so much more than a match. I knew it. You knew it. I could see it in your face.” Roman paused, nervously raising one hand to rub at a small red mark on the side of his neck. “Anyway, I could tell it messed you up bad. And after, I realized it messed me up pretty bad too. And yeah, we've got this history, but it cuts both ways. So I had to make sure you were all right. Because you were my brother once, and because you're a person.”

 Roman placed one hand on Seth’s shoulder, nudging him back toward the bench and gently pressing, motioning for him to sit. Seth didn't have the will left to push his hand away, and gave in to the familiar warmth of Roman’s touch. Those massive hands had hurt him plenty, sure, and no more than he deserved, but they had also taken desperate tags, pulled opponents off him, and carried him from the ring. It was strange to know them this way again. He didn't sit so much as sink, as if the bench and his legs were both made of wet sand, but under just that one hand, he felt he could breathe again, a little. He looked down at his own hands, and realized they were still shaking.

 He realized he was still holding the bottle of water. Opening it forced him to still his hands for a few moments, but he could still barely swallow. “But why would you ever want to help me? Why now, after what we just did to each other, before we go do it to each other again? How do I know you're not just trying to soften me up, make me let my guard down? Huh? You have your chance, why wouldn’t you take it? Or do you want to get Ambrose in here to take it out of me too?”

He felt a hand on his other shoulder, and Roman lowered himself to one knee in front of the bench, at a level where he could look Seth straight in the eye. Meeting his gaze head-on just couldn’t be avoided anymore, and despite the fact that it made his breath catch in his throat again, Seth gave in and looked right back, into eyes full of deep, honest concern. “Because I've seen this before. The way you were when I found you just now - something about your face - you've been like that before. It wasn't until I saw it on someone else that I knew what it was. I know you’re hurting, and that it’s something you can’t control.  And you don’t need anyone to hurt you more than that.”

 The words sent a shock through Seth’s entire body. _He saw. He knew. He just knew. He wasn’t supposed to know, not years ago, not now, and not ever._ The game was over; someone had to find out eventually. He had hoped it wouldn’t be like this, but now there was no going back, and he couldn’t avoid the truth. Closing his eyes to break from Roman’s gaze for a moment, he drew a deep breath and steeled himself for the inevitable.

 “The way I was when you found me? That's not new. It's been going on for years.”

 The furrow in Roman’s forehead grew deeper, and his eyes took on that puzzled look again, as if they were seeing Seth for the very first time. “Really? And you never said a word about it. Even in the Shield days?”

 “Yes. Even in the Shield days.” When he had finally forced out those first words, the rest all started spilling out, faster than he could control. “Some of those times when I snapped at you or at Dean, when I had to walk away for a while, when I was acting weird and not talking to you - that’s what was going on. I didn’t know why then, and I don’t even totally know now, but I felt like I was dying, and I just - “

 Seth’s sentence was interrupted by Roman’s arms around him, wrapping him in a tight hug. The initial shock forced the air from his lungs, and sent a rush of sudden heat through every nerve. It was all so overwhelming: the warmth of the larger man’s chest, the softness of his old T-shirt, the mingled smells of sweat and the slightly spicy deodorant he always wore, his hands gripping Seth’s bare back and holding him close - so close, and with such fierce tenderness. All the mixed emotions, all the words, all the excuses he’d tried so carefully to prepare so many times - none of them made sense anymore. All that made sense was the crashing wave of relief that washed over him, sending every muscle slack and bringing tears to his eyes again, and this time he didn’t try to stop them. There was no fighting it anymore. He was sure Roman could feel his shoulders shaking and wet spots soaking through his shirt, but Roman wasn’t letting go, as if he could have stayed there for hours without a second thought. When Seth finally broke away, after more minutes than he could count, Roman kept one steady hand on his shoulder and reached under the bench to retrieve the forgotten water bottle. Seth was grateful for the silence as he slowly took a long drink and tried to pull himself back together - something in the air had changed, everything felt just a little lighter, and for once, there was no expectation of words. Roman crossed the locker room and started rummaging around in the corner where he had left his bags. He came back with a dry T-shirt, a bottle of ibuprofen, and a handful of paper towels from the adjoining bathroom. It wasn’t until Seth had a chance to dry off his face and pull the shirt on that Roman finally sat back down next to him, sideways on the bench, and spoke.

“So you hid it. You hid that - for years?”

Seth nodded, turning to face him. “I was supposed to be the brains. I couldn’t let anyone see that I was starting to crack, or they would have taken advantage. Besides, Dean was always supposed to be the crazy one, and we had to be there for him when he was having a bad time. If anybody knew, I would have just been a liability.”

Roman reached out and took hold of his hand again. “Uce, you know you can’t compare your own stuff to what Dean had going on. And just because we were there for him, what made you think Dean and I wouldn’t be there for you?”

“I don’t know. Pride, maybe. I thought I could get over it on my own. I thought it was just a one time thing, like I’d just taken a weird hit, and then it started happening more.” Seth’s own words sounded silly to him now, but once he had started, the entire story just wanted to keep tumbling out. The knot in his stomach, made up of years worth of denial, began to melt. Under the soft squeeze of Roman’s hand and the intensity of his eyes, everything felt like a weak excuse, but that didn’t matter. “I guess I was under a lot more pressure than I thought. Sometimes I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I was going to fail, how my career was going to be over, how I was running out of time, how someday everything would fall apart, I’d fall apart, and I’d get left alone, and nobody would come back for me. And when things went wrong, it just convinced me more that this was the truth. I got mad at Dean, I got mad at you, I thought you were abandoning me, and with all the risks and all the beatings I was taking, I got… well, scared doesn’t even begin to cover it. I was supposed to be in control, and I couldn’t even control myself. And when I said I couldn’t hold the Shield together, I meant I couldn’t hold the Shield and myself both together.”

The relief Seth felt at finally getting all the words out was replaced by more apprehension when he noticed Roman had looked away from him, and was staring down at the bench. At once his mind snapped to attention again - knowing his words probably hurt to hear, how could he predict how Roman would react? Clearly he hadn’t thought this through enough, and just fucked it all up again. But Roman raised his head, and this time, _his_ eyes looked a little bit wet. He seemed, after saying so much more than usual before, to be at a loss for words. Shifting closer to Seth, he placed a hand on his shoulder, and broke the tense silence quietly. “I guess I don’t know what to say, Uce. I don’t know how I didn’t see it - I mean, we were together all the time back then, you know? You must have been working really hard to hide that - to hide it from both of us.” Seth nodded, feeling the weight of all those unspoken words, and realizing it was slowly, gradually, starting to lift away. “I guess I didn’t know what I was looking at, even when it was right in front of me. I just wish you’d told me,” Roman continued, “because I’m sorry you had to do that. And I hope you know, you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“That’s the hard part, I guess. I don’t want to dump it all on you. I mean, I’ve been doing better. But it’s never really gone.” Seth fumbled for the wadded up paper towel, and began to fidget with it until a gentle touch from Roman’s hand stopped him, and drew his attention back to his old friend’s face. “Back then, I thought that I could get over it. That maybe if I had some kind of control, that would help. If I could get myself up so high that I’d be untouchable, that I’d be safe when something did happen. But the higher I got, the more scared I was of falling. And hiding from Hunter was even harder than hiding from you. And then I did fall, and I had to face what I was so scared of, and get through it, somehow. And I think I’m probably stronger for it, but even when I’m doing OK, it’s still there.”

 “But you know what else is still there, right? Me.” Roman straightened up, as if trying to make himself as big and imposing as possible. A rock, a mountain, a fortress.  “And you know you can tell me when things get bad again. And if you need to be alone, I’ll make sure the guys leave you alone. I’ll make something up, and they’re not gonna question it.”

 This time, Seth was the one who reached out and hugged Roman tightly. “I appreciate that, man. I’ve learned to feel this stuff coming on, and how to get to somewhere I can calm down, and take a few breaths or whatever, before I totally lose it.” He gathered up the shredded paper towels and the almost-forgotten bottle of ibuprofen, shaking out a few pills before handing the bottle back. “And I don’t think anyone knows yet. If anyone finds out about tonight, they’ll just think I’m upset because I lost, or that my ribs really hurt or something. I guess I’ve got an excuse there. But It's not because I lost, and it’s not because of anything you did in the match. It's because I knew you beating me wasn't enough. It's not enough to turn things around. I’m not really a better person, and the stuff going on in my head is no excuse. It doesn't matter how much it hurts, there's no way in hell any match can make up for the things I've done unless I'm left half-dead with a chair across my back, on a bunch of busted rubble. And if that happened, I’d take it. Maybe that kind of pain could take it all away. Even things out, somehow.” Seth felt his face turning a little red, which came as a complete surprise. He hadn’t expected admitting this to feel so weirdly, well, intimate. Telling Roman about his other problems had been one thing, but getting into what was bothering him so much, getting this far into some of the parts of their shared past that must have been the most painful for Roman, was something else entirely.

 Roman had moved back to the corner and started to shove the rest of his belongings into their appropriate bags, and glanced quizzically over his shoulder at Seth. “So, you would want something like that?”

“Yeah. I think I would.” The curiosity in Roman’s tone intrigued him.

“I kind of thought so. Every time I landed something on you tonight I saw this - this look. Like you were being punished, and you knew it, and you welcomed it. But it's not that easy. You can't just add up pain until you've paid off your debt, Lannister.” Seth chuckled a little at the joke, but was both puzzled and fascinated by the insight and the slow smile that crept onto Roman’s face.  “If there's one thing I've learned it's that pain is… well, it's complicated. And it can mean different things.” Roman touched the puffy red mark that bloomed next to his eyebrow. “This one you gave me? It's totally different from this one, that… someone else gave me.” He motioned to the small welt at the base of his neck, peeking out from under his T-shirt. “They both hurt, but they hurt different. They mean something different. If you want me hurting you to mean that you can stop ripping yourself up inside and move on, that's fine. Because I'm probably going to hurt you again.”

 Seth moved over to his own locker, and began digging through the pile of clothing for a passably clean pair of pants. “It's Extreme Rules. I wouldn't expect you to go easy. There’s so much fire in you, Ro, and I wouldn’t want you to hold it back. Not just because I might feel better for taking it, but because you’re so goddamn good at it. Not just the hits, but all the tough talk - it’s intimidating as hell, and I don’t know, you just make it sound amazing.”

 “And I wouldn't expect you to go easy on me either. All that stuff you landed on me tonight? It’s going to make tomorrow rough, man.” Roman rummaged around in the bottom of his bag, pulling out a water bottle and a small container of protein powder.  “But promise me one thing. Six days from now, after that five-way, come see me. Come talk to me. It's gonna be a hard night, and when it's over, I want to make sure you're okay. I don’t care if it’s for five minutes or all night. Hell, cry all over my shirt again if that's what you need, you can even stay with me if you want to. I might beat the sass out of you, but I'm not going to leave you alone in a bad place again.”

 “I’ll do it. And out there, you can do what you want, say what you want - anything they’ll let you. Even that thing about owning me. Because I’ve been owned before, and knowing I’m not going back to that, I’m not afraid of it anymore.” The words put an odd sensation in the pit of Seth’s stomach. He wondered, vaguely, what it would have been like if someone who was nothing like Hunter had controlled him instead - if he had been _owned_ , so to speak, by someone who actually cared. Now that he thought about it, it actually didn’t sound half bad.

 Roman chuckled softly. “That, little brother, was a warning. ‘Cause if you start talking ‘bout how you own me again, I'm not the one you should be scared of.” Seth couldn't be sure, but he thought he saw a very satisfied smile - one that was different than any he had seen before - toying with the corner of Roman’s mouth before he turned and headed for the bathroom door.


End file.
